“I would do anything for my son even if I hated my ex. He’d want his dad alive, which means I would help him.”
Beckett nodded and faced the door, and it was only then she spied the shadow of a bulge at the back of his waistband.
“How’d you get a weapon over the border? They let you fly armed because of your badge?”
He twisted back around. “No, a friend of Carter’s friend?” It came out more like a question as if he didn’t quite understand Carter’s network of influence. “I have a piece for you too. I can get it to you after we’re done at the bar.”
“Hopefully, we won’t need weapons here, but it’s nice to be packing just in case.” She forced a small smile, then spotted Mya in the hall a second later.
“Oh, I didn’t expect you to be here.” Mya quickly brushed past Beckett to enter the room. “Can we meet you at the bar? I need a few seconds with my friend.” She set her hands on Beckett’s chest and gently nudged him toward the hall as if he might resist.
Only Mya.
“Of course.” Beckett had barely left the room before Mya tossed two fisted hands in the air by her face and mimed explosions with them.
“That’s your cowboy sheriff,” she whispered. “You know I don’t believe in coincidences. We were talking about him, and now he’s here. This is Joe Dispenza’s theory of manifestation in action. The universe placed the four of us together in Tulum for a reason. And the fact that his daughter’s aunt and Jesse are with not just any cartel, but with the Sinaloas—”
“Mya, you’re rambling.” Maybe there really was something in those drinks?
“I’m just a little shocked, I guess.”
“Sure it has nothing to do with the other guy here?” Sydney angled her head, remembering the way her friend had said Oliver’s name at the beach. Flirty, for sure.
“If we work together, I promise Oliver won’t become Mason two-point-oh.”
“So, you like him?” Sydney smiled. “Hmm, now I’m not sure if Oliver will be your reason for not joining Falcon or your reason for joining.”
Instead of answering, Mya’s gaze flitted around the room, landing on the photo of the cenote hanging over Sydney’s bed, and there was a moment where Sydney wondered if Mya regretted not taking the leap—changing her habits, starting with her fear of swimming in water other than pools. But then she blinked a few too many times as if her nerves were settling in, claiming control of her thoughts.
Habits die hard. “What’s going on? There’s something you’re not telling me, and it has nothing to do with whether you’re attracted to Oliver.” Sydney folded her arms and waited for her friend’s full attention.
“Maybe.” Mya nodded. “Okay, yes.” She tipped her chin, her eyes cutting to the ceiling. “I may have chosen our trip to be in Tulum for a reason. Girls’ weekend while you convince me to join your team,” she went on, her gaze finally moving back to Sydney’s, “and for a small mission, one I didn’t tell you about because it’s not until tomorrow after you’ve already left. And I don’t need backup.”
“Mya,” Sydney hissed and reached for her friend’s forearm. “And Mason and the others don’t know the real reason you’re here either, am I right? If Mason knows, that means he’s somewhere on overwatch keeping tabs on you right now.”
Mya frowned. “No, he doesn’t know. He’d lose his mind.”
Sydney released Mya and turned her back, angry at her friend for potentially placing herself in danger. “Can’t swim in a river, but you can chase bad guys on your own. Perfect.” The effects of the mimosas were quickly leaving her system now. “If Mason would go apeshit for you doing whatever it is you planned to do tomorrow, then it’s not a simple mission, and you do need backup. You should have told me.” She spun back around, doing her best not to explode at her best friend.
In truth, she’d do the same in Mya’s shoes. Hadn’t she done the same in the past? But Mya wasn’t a trained operative. She’d never served in the military or on the front lines like Sydney had. Mya was a valuable asset with her research skills, but she wasn’t equipped to go out into the field. And the idea of losing her friend . . .
“I’m sorry. It’s not a big deal. Mason’s just a worrier. He didn’t like the idea of me even coming to Tulum. Gave me every worst-case scenario for a single woman in Mexico.”
“But he let you come, huh?”
She smiled. “Once he knew it was you I was traveling with, he wasn’t so worried.”
Sydney fidgeted with the knot at the front of the robe, tightening it a bit more as she figured out her next steps. She refused to let Mya stay in Mexico alone tomorrow for a “mission,” but what if Jesse needed an extraction before then? “This is why you’ve been looking over your shoulder the whole time we’ve been here?”
“More like I was worried Mason didn’t trust me and would show up in true wet-blanket fashion.” Mya opened her palms as if that made perfect sense.
Sydney supposed her best friend would’ve given her the heads-up if she’d been on edge because she’d been concerned their lives were at risk.
“You know how I said everything happens for a reason . . .?” Mya’s sentence dangled in the air a bit as if there was more she wanted to say but wasn’t sure how to express it.
Sydney knew exactly what Mya was about to share. Whatever mess of a situation Beckett had found himself in, as “fate” or whatever Mya wanted to call it, was connected to why Mya was in Tulum.
“The reason I’m here, my source, well, he’s from the—”
“The Sinaloa cartel,” Sydney finished for her after an exasperated sigh.
CHAPTER SEVEN
This is paradise. And yet, it felt anything but.
With his back to the beach, Beckett observed the guests crowded around the rectangular-shaped bar beneath a white canopy-style tent that offered some shade. A few lights that looked more like upside-down baskets hung from the center of the tent.
The three “mixologists,” as he’d learned they were called instead of bartenders, were busy crafting colorful cocktails, making the guests smile and laugh with a few Tom Cruise, Cocktail, moves.
Only one of the tables that circled the expansive bar was occupied. Two people were sitting on the area’s beachside, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes while sharing a bright blue drink so big you could take a damn bath in it.
“Guess we gotta deal with the heat,” Oliver commented while joining him. “A table should be private enough.” He motioned to one at the far end of the bar with a view of the jungle that surrounded the hotel. ATV-style golf carts were transporting guests back and forth between the beach and jungle. Probably tour guides.
Beckett sat opposite Oliver to keep his attention on the bar. It always made him feel better to clock every person in a public space. Get a read on his environment. Force of habit? Probably, but it’d kept him alive once or twice back when he’d worked in Los Angeles, and he needed to be on guard to help Jesse and Ivy.